The ruminations, or perhaps more properly speaking the grousing, below was prompted by a book review. It was not a good book review; indeed, it was a really lousy book review. And it was the poor quality of the review itself that caused me to start wondering why some people just don’t seem to understand the idea of the book review.
The book: Scorpions by Noah Feldman. I reviewed this book a few months back here on this blog, and so let me hasten to say that the blog review is not an example of a good book review—for one thing, the blog format is too informal for a proper book review. But, the general direction of that blog review is the right general direction. And therein lies the tale.
The review which prompted my grumbling: Joseph Tartakovsky’s review in National Review.
Now, let me also note at the outset; I liked Scorpions. A lot. Tartakovsky did not. That isn’t a problem at all; I often learn much about a book from a reviewer who has a different opinion than I do. The problem is that Tartakovsky didn’t really review the book at all. Indeed, if the first time I had heard of this book had been Tartakovsky’s review, then I would have completely dismissed the book as puerile drivel, never picked it up, and thereby missed out on reading a rather interesting book. That is a problem; a good review should not make someone want to skip a book which would make one think.
Where did Tartakovsky go wrong? Many, many places, and the discussion of them is illustrative of the problem with a great many book reviews. The book is a discussion of how four of FDRs Supreme Court nominees had a long-lasting effect on the Court. Feldman introduces each of these people with a biographical chapter, which helps set the scene for what comes after. Tartakovsky devotes nearly a quarter of the space in his review to four one-paragraph summaries of these background biographies. Now in a 528 page book, the background biographies are not intrusive. But is a short book review? It’s odd. And the reason it is odd is that the book review does not need these biographical sketches; the reader learns nothing about the book, the argument of the book or an evaluation of that argument by reading four paragraphs of background material. So, why did Tartakovsky include all these biographical details? Hard to say. I suspect it is because it is easy to write such material; you don’t have to think about a book as much if you spend a quarter of your allotted space on superficial detail.
Then when you turn to the review itself, Tartakovsky makes another elementary error. He complains that Feldman elevates the role of these Justices too much in the book. Tartakovsky argues that other people also had important roles to play. You think? We have here a book which seeks to explore the importance of four people; Tartakovsky complains that this elevates the role of these four people. In other words, the complaint here is that the author didn’t write a different book. Of course a book about four people elevates the role of those four people; that is the thesis of the book after all. One can argue that Feldman was wrong, that these four men were not really all that important, but to do so requires more than simply saying there are other people in the world.
Then Tartakovsky goes on to complain that Feldman “undermines” his tale that there was a clash of legal theories on the court by looking at the psychological and political motivations of the justices. That, again, was the whole point of the book.
And then, finally, Tartakovsky complains that the book isn't written with enough literary flair.
So by the end of the review, what have we learned about the book or the argument of the book? Almost nothing. What have we learned about the merits of the argument underlying the book. Nothing again. If we put Tartakovsky on a stage with Feldman, would we learn anything from Tartakovsky’s interaction with Feldman’s book? Not at all.
Now the point here is not to elevate Tartakovsky to the role of a particularly bad book reviewer. He isn’t. I read reviews exactly like this all the time. And they annoy me. National Review is particularly prone to sloppy book reviews—the books tend to be reviewed on the basis of how closely they hew to the conservative line. So, Scorpions was doomed in a National Review book review because it is, after all, about FDR Justices, we know FDR was bad, Feldman doesn’t seem to think everything FDR did was bad, ergo this book must be bad. (Remind me again why I subscribe to National Review.)
So, how do you write a proper book review? Oddly, it isn't really all that complicated. The review is an essay. It should read like an essay. The book is the subject of the essay. The reader should be told exactly enough about the book to evaluate the argument of the book and no more than that. The author should evaluate the central argument of the book. Interesting asides either from the book or from the author’s reading of the book can be added for flavor, but not if they detract from the evaluation itself. By the end of the review, a reader should a) know what the book argued, b) know whether the book is worth reading, and c) have learned something about the idea being discussed in the book. Following that advice, even a bad book can prompt a good book review.
So, why don’t we see more good book reviews? I suspect there are two parts to the problem. First, there really aren’t enough people who are capable of writing excellent book reviews. Writing an excellent review is hard; it means reading a book well (which few people know how to do), thinking about it seriously (which takes time), and in the end having something interesting to say about the book (which cannot be guaranteed when one starts reading book). The second problem is time; book reviews are often commissioned in a hurry. A good book review takes time. But, the whole point of a book review is to review books which were recently published. So, not enough good reviewers coupled with not enough time leads to lots of sloppy book reviews. Which is too bad, because I really enjoy good book reviews.
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